


Final Martyr

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [132]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canon-Typical Violence, Feelings, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Stiles, Pre-Slash, Scott is a Bad Friend, True Alpha Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Scott and Deaton finally pile on that last straw that breaks Stiles' metaphorical back. He's done with them. And he tells them as much.Because Derek deserves better than this.





	Final Martyr

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from an Anon on Tumblr:  _I've had a shitty week, so if you're taking prompts, how about Derek being used as bait in some plan and getting hurt and Stiles promptly telling off Scott and Deaton because it shouldn't be acceptable that as long as it's only Derek's who's hurt things are fine._
> 
> Quick disclaimer: I am not anti-Scott. This is merely one of an infinite number of ways I could see things going between Scott and Stiles, and I definitely had some feelings of my own I needed to vent with this. But I'm fine with Scott, so if you expect more anti-Scott you won't find it a lot in my fics.
> 
> Also, I wrote this a whole goddamn year ago. I need to try harder getting my posts to AO3, ugh.
> 
> Originally posted [here on Tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com/post/154477460306/ive-had-a-shitty-week-so-if-youre-taking).
> 
> Unbetaed.

”We're done,” Stiles says coldly, and ignores Scott's wounded face and halting protest, choosing instead to turn on his heel and leave the vet clinic. Scott catches the door before it slams closed, and there's no way Stiles can outrun Scott, of course, so suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder. Stiles shakes it off angrily, and whirls around to find Scott with his hands held up in surrender, Deaton watching them both from the door.

 

”I said: we're done,” Stiles says again, and he must sound serious, because even Deaton looks a little ashamed. Which is saying a lot for a man with next to no actual facial expressions.

 

”Stiles, you have to understand-” Deaton starts, before Stiles cuts him off.

 

”Bullshit! Bull! Shit! I don't have to understand a single one of your shitty-ass plans, Dr. Cryptic!” Stiles rants. ”This is the final fucking straw. There's literally no reasoning you can give me that can defend this.”

 

”It was necessary to preserve the balance of-”

 

”If it was so necessary, why didn't you put yourself up for the part of minced meat?!”

 

”Stiles, I had to stay clear to conduct-”

 

”Then why not me? Or Scott? Or literally _anyone_ else!?”

 

”You and Scott are minors-”

 

”Like that's mattered before?!” Stiles yells, tossing out his arms. ”And are you seriously telling me we're the only people you know?! Literally _no one_ else could get off their ass to fix something if it was really so important for your precious fucking balance?!”

 

”Stiles,” Scott pipes up weakly. ”Derek, he... he volunteered.”

 

Stiles rounds on him with anger burning like acid in his throat. ” _And that makes it okay?!_ Scott, you of all people know what a fucking martyr Derek is! You're supposed to be the good guy! You're supposed to find a way to protect people! And that fucking includes Derek!”

 

”I _am_ trying to protect-”

 

”No, Scott. No you're not. You're trying to live up to your motherfucking messiah complex. You could have found another way. There was still time.”

 

”But Derek stepped up! If we'd waited we would have risked lives-”

 

”YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!” Stiles screams, voice ripping painfully through his throat. He breathes hard while Scott looks at him with something like pity. Like Stiles is the one who doesn't get it. Which just goes to show that it's been a long time since they were on the same page. ”Scott... the fact that you happily chose the _certain_ outcome of Derek getting hurt and possibly killed, rather than the _possiblity_ of some _stranger_ getting hurt... that's cruel.”

 

”We couldn't risk innocent lives, Stiles.”

 

Stiles literally feels like he's going to puke. ”And that right there is the problem. Derek _is_ innocent. He's been used by literally everyone in his life, until he started thinking it's the only thing he's good for. And you still think he's guilty of... who even knows what.”

 

”He volunteered!” Scott cries. ”Wouldn't you rather have that than some random bystander getting hurt?!”

 

”No, Scott. No I wouldn't,” Stiles says quietly, feeling suddenly tired. ”That's the difference between you and me. Loyalty means literally nothing to you. If you were given the choice between killing Joe Schmoe from Nowhere-ville and your own goddamn mother, you'd have them both produce proof of their badness level. Lowest level wins. The law according to Jesus McCall.”

 

”Dude, that's low. You know it's not like that. But are you seriously gonna value _your_ loved ones over someone else's?”

 

”Damn right I am,” Stiles spits. ”And if that makes me immoral, then I'll fucking wear it like a badge of honor. I protect the people I care about. And you don't. It's as simple as that.”

 

”Stiles, that's unfair-”

 

Stiles doesn't wait to hear the rest. Instead he hops into his Jeep and speeds off, ignoring Scott's gesturing in the rear-view mirror. It's not that he can't see Scott's point of view. It's more the fact that Scott will never be able to see Stiles'. It's never been a secret that between the two of them Stiles was the one straddling the line between good and evil the most, but he always felt they balanced each other out nicely enough. But then Scott McCall; True Alpha happened. And that was the beginning of the end.

 

He pulls up at the loft, and has to stop and count his breaths a few times when he sees the smears of blood still on the door jamb and the front stoop. There's a puddle of half-dried blood in the elevator. A _puddle_. If Stiles hadn't known for a fact that Derek is alive and healing he'd be panicking right now.

 

As he enters the loft there's more blood, but there are also lights on, and tatters of clothing littering a path to the bathroom. He peeks through the door to find Derek asleep sitting up in the bathtub, the water barely a few inches high, thank god. The water is murky, though, a crusty mix of blood and dirt, swirling softly around Derek's knees as he breathes wetly. Stiles tries not to look at the holes in his chest, but it's hard not to. They're healing, but it's slow going, and Stiles hadn't actually thought further than this.

 

But he's a sheriff's kid, and if nothing else his genetics are telling him to help somehow. So he drains out the filthy water, refills the tub and finds a rag to wipe off the worst of the blood, rinsing cautiously around the wounds. Derek grunts at a few touches, but doesn't wake up, and by the time the tub's been drained three times his skin is whole again. Still gnarled with redness and scarring, but that should fade soon, and Stiles is giving Derek's chest one last rinse when he jerks awake.

 

”Hey, hey, no mauling, please,” Stiles says, and it's gratifying how fast Derek calms down. They've come a long way in the past few years.

 

”You're here to yell at me, aren't you?” Derek rasps, letting his head thunk back onto the towel Stiles had eased under his neck at one point.

 

”No,” Stiles says softly, turning off the showerhead. ”Already did my yelling.”

 

Derek huffs. ”While I was out? Sorry I missed it.”

 

”No. Well yes. I didn't yell at you. This one wasn't on you.” He turns his back on Derek, because for some reason him being awake means that Stiles is suddenly aware of the nudity, and he carefully rinses the blood-stained cloth in the sink.

 

”Stiles... who did you yell at?” Derek asks slowly.

 

”Scott. We're done. Our friendship is officially dead. He had no right to do that to you.”

 

”He didn't-”

 

”Yeah, I know. You volunteered. It was for the balance. Scott is a minor. No one else should get hurt. Trust me, I heard all the arguments for this idiotic plan.” He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest, because he needs Derek to really hear him now. ”And you know what? It's all bullshit. Scott is a minor? Then why is he calling the shots and not you or Deaton? And if Scott is calling the shots, why wasn't he the bait? Isn't the definition of a hero their willingness to leap into danger for innocents? And also, you're not an alpha anymore. He is. He'd be healed in five minutes flat.” Stiles has to swallow, because there are still smears of blood leading all the way to the front door. ”Meanwhile you're here, literally hours later, still looking like someone fucking _skinned_ you.”

 

It's a long minute of silence before Derek speaks again. ”It's better when it's me. I-”

 

”If you're about to say you deserve it, then I will _actually_ skin you and turn you into shoes, Derek.”

 

Derek gives him an odd look, and Stiles decides to go all out. It's apparently the only thing left. ”Derek... you don't deserve hurt. You're not making up for old shit by getting yourself injured. You can't pay back for whatever it is you think you're guilty of in pints of blood.” Derek looks like Stiles punched him. _Good_.

  
”Then what am I supposed to do?” Derek asks, voice small.

 

”Live. That's all they'd want, Derek. This is not gonna give anyone peace. Not you, not me, not them.”

 

”Not you?”

 

One of these fucking things is not like the others, and of course Derek caught on to it, because despite recent evidence to the contrary he's not actually stupid. ”So maybe I'd like to see you happy instead of in agony every once in a while,” Stiles says defensively. ”It would make for a nice change.”

 

”I'm... not used to people caring,” Derek admits, and Stiles feels vaguely like throwing a parade, because this is progress in a big way.

 

”Well, I do, so suck it up. And if you could maybe not do martyr shit like that anymore it would do wonders for my blood pressure. Now, try and see if you can stand up before you turn into a prune.”

 

”Okay,” Derek says meekly, and it's many hours later when Stiles is channel surfing on the couch while Derek is in bed sleeping off the healing that it occurs to Stiles that Derek didn't even try and argue. He has to breathe slowly for a few minutes at the implications of Derek actually listening to him and being willing to take care of himself, simply because Stiles asked him to.

 

Maybe there are actually brighter times ahead. For both of them.

 

End.

 


End file.
